


Seeing Red

by oxblud



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2001), Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Childhood Trauma, Dubious Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25567483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxblud/pseuds/oxblud
Summary: When Hatsuharu is drugged at a concert, Yuki is charged with babysitting him.Dark Haru comes out to play.
Relationships: Sohma Hatsuharu/Sohma Yuki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 127





	Seeing Red

“I take it the show was eventful,” Yuki said after a moment.

Hatsuharu giggled faintly from where he’d collapsed face-down in Yuki’s lap with a _thud_.

“You could say that,” said Uo, grimacing as she worked out her shoulder. “Man, he’s heavier than he looks.”

“You didn’t have to carry him the whole way,” Kyo muttered from the doorway.

“Couldn’t risk him running off again,” she fired back with a glare, “seeing as _someone_ can’t be trusted to keep an eye on him.”

“It’s not my fault!”

“Carried him?” Yuki shot a tense look at Kyo.

“Mostly I just steered him around,” said Uo. “Made sure he kept his balance, kept him from wandering into traffic. Fear not: masculinity intact, or whatever.”

“That isn’t what I was worried about.” Yuki glared daggers at his cousin.

“How was I supposed to know he couldn’t be trusted to go to the bathroom by himself? We aren’t six anymore!” Kyo looked indignant. “Who takes pills from strangers anyway?”

“Where do you think people go to share drugs? Ugh, it’s like you’ve never been to an underground show before.”

“I had a headache,” Haru offered weakly, rubbing his cheek into the side of Yuki’s corduroys.

Yuki pinched the bridge of his nose and set his book to the side with a sigh; so much for a quiet night in.

“Miss Uotani,” he said, “thank you for getting Haru back safely; sorry to have ruined your night.”

“Don’t sweat it,” said Uo with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Gotta look out for each other.”

“If you’d like, I’m sure Miss Honda wouldn’t mind you using her bedroom while she’s away.”

“Actually,” she said, looking from one boy to another, “if you don’t mind, I might head back to the show. You know, since he’s safe and probably down for the count and all.” She checked her watch. “I should make it back in time to catch most of the headliner.”

“I’ll give this much to him,” said Yuki. “He got his questionable decisions done early in the evening.”

“Would that be all right with you? Sorry to stick you with him, but with some sleep and some electrolytes he should be fine.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” said Yuki smoothly. “Kyo can walk you back to the venue.”

“Hey, don’t volunteer me for stuff, you damn Rat—“

“Miss Uotani took time out of her evening to make sure Hatsuharu got out of a dangerous situation safely,” Yuki said, voice firm and words calculatedly slow, “so it’s only right we show her the same courtesy, _don’t you agree_? Now, if going back to the concert you were _already planning to attend_ is too arduous a task for you to handle, I can certainly—“

“All right, fine, damn it!” Kyo hissed. “I’ll go.”

“Thank you,” said Yuki with a tight smile. _Idiot_ was left unspoken but implied.

As Uo headed back outside, Yuki managed to shake Haru off his lap for a moment and grabbed Kyo by the arm.

“Don’t make her have to carry you back home too,” he warned with a low growl.

“I had it under control,” Kyo muttered back through clenched teeth. “She never got her arm all the way around him; I made sure of it.”

“You realize how many different ways that could have gone wrong, right?”

“What kind of moron do you take me for?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

“All right, THAT’S IT—“

“Yo, Carrots, get the lead out! Let’s move!” Uo called from outside.

“This isn’t over!” They snarled in unison, then scowled.

As Kyo stalked off into the night after Uotani, Yuki turned back to survey the scene with a sigh. Hatsuharu had hardly moved from where he had sprawled out on the floor, except to tuck the cushion Yuki had been sitting on under his head. Yuki spared a moment to grimace and rub his temples before kneeling down to unlace his cousin’s heavy boots.

“Yuki?” Haru mumbled, mostly into the cushion.

“Yes, Haru?”

“Hi.”

“Hi, Haru.” Yuki set the boots down outside before stepping over Hatsuharu to get to the kitchen.

“—‘m hot.”

“Well, that coat you’re wearing looks heavy,” said Yuki. “Maybe you should consider taking it off.”

“‘Rmph. Effort.”

“Okay.” Yuki set a glass of water on the table in front of Hatsuharu’s slumped form. “Here, drink.”

“Hm?”

“Sit up.”

With Haru’s halfhearted assistance, Yuki got his cousin out of the coat and into a roughly seated position; as soon as the water hit his lips, Haru gulped it down like a dying man, which gave Yuki enough time to claim his cushion back and resume his seated position against the wall. No sooner had he chanced picking his book back up, however, than Haru flung himself back into Yuki’s lap, running one hand rapturously up and down the older boy’s corduroy-clad shin.

“Soft,” said Haru in a voice barely above a whisper.

Something that was not annoyance lurched in Yuki’s stomach at being casually manhandled like this, but when Haru didn’t make a move to do anything further, he let some of the tension out of his shoulders and propped the book back up on his knee.

After a few minutes he realized that, without his noticing, one of his hands had made its way into Haru’s hair, idly toying with the wild white curls like it was the most natural thing in the world to be doing; he blinked at the discovery, freezing for a moment before slowly moving his hand off the other boy’s head.

Maybe Haru hadn’t noticed; maybe he’d fallen asleep.

“Yuki?”

No such luck, then.

“Yes, Haru?”

“You smell nice.”

“I—thank you?” Yuki’s eyes widened as Hatsuharu’s head slid higher up on his thigh as he gracelessly flopped over onto his back, nose pressed into the hem of Yuki’s shirt.

“Smell pretty.”

“Don’t call me pretty.”

Haru giggled at that. “Pretty pretty pretty,” he said with a giddily contrary grin, snuggling further into the crook of Yuki’s hip. “Pretty smell. Soap ’n grass… ’n… something.”

There was a sheen of sweat on Haru’s collarbones where they peeked out of his mostly-unbuttoned shirt. Something hot tightened in the pit of Yuki’s stomach again as he was temporarily transfixed by the sight.

_You’re deluding yourself._

A voice from the past arose unbidden in his mind, as it often did when Yuki found himself distracted by things like the V of exposed flesh between Haru’s shirt collars. He swallowed, but it did nothing for the lump in his throat.

_Don’t ever allow yourself to think otherwise._

A soft, deep chuckle caught his attention, and his eyes snapped to where Hatsuharu’s face was peeking up at him, still half-buried in Yuki’s lap. Haru’s eyes were still glassy, but now they were on him with laser focus, pupils blown wide. Gone too was the dopey bonelessness of his demeanor; although he hadn’t moved, Yuki could see Haru’s whole body was suddenly full of lithe tension, like a coil ready to spring.

Somehow, without Yuki’s noticing, Dark Haru had arrived.

“Like what you see?” Haru quirked an eyebrow.

Yuki kept his breath carefully even as he set down his book once more. “We should get you to bed,” he said.

“Forward,” said Haru. “I like it.” He languidly rolled himself back up to a sitting position, cracking his neck once.

“Let me just get the futon out—“

“Oh, don’t play coy with me.” Haru grabbed Yuki’s wrist, keeping Yuki from fleeing into the next room even as he used it to pull himself up to standing. “We’re way past that.”

“Haru,” said Yuki with a gulp. “I really think we should get you some sleep.”

“Not tired.” Haru’s smirk was devilish as he took a step into the older boy’s personal space. “Better things to do.”

“Haru, you aren’t…yourself right now,” Yuki protested as his back hit the doorframe.

“Oh, I beg to differ.” A hand came to rest on Yuki’s hip, thumb stroking at the line where corduroy met skin, while the other moved to lace its way into Yuki’s hair.

“You’ve been drugged, it isn’t—ah!” Yuki saw stars, his head hitting the beam behind him as Hatsuharu yanked it backward. Their height wasn’t all that different, but Hatsuharu seemed to tower over him as he lowered his mouth to the long line of muscle where neck met shoulder; Yuki’s hips twitched, despite himself.

“Boring,” Haru murmured into Yuki’s collarbone. “Where’s Sensei?”

“A-at the Main House,” Yuki stuttered, trapped.

“All night?”

Yuki shuddered a sigh and nodded.

“Good.” Long fingers deftly worked the buttons on Yuki’s shirt, exposing his pale chest to the cool night air. “Gonna make you feel good,” said Haru as he tugged at Yuki’s hair again, gentler this time. “Gonna make you feel _so_ good.”

_You’re deluding yourself._

After what felt like an eternity, Yuki managed to bring his hands up to Haru’s chest, pushing him back a fraction of an inch. “You’ve been drugged,” he repeated in a voice much steadier than he felt. “This is bad. _Really_ bad. This is taking advantage of you and I can’t—“

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any mistaking who’s taking advantage of whom here.” Haru’s grin was downright feral. “I know _exactly_ what I’m doing here: do you?”

“What?”

With a grunt, Hatsuharu flipped Yuki around, pressing Yuki’s face against the doorframe and his denim-clad erection against Yuki’s ass. “You put up a good front, you know,” he said, sliding Yuki’s shirt the rest of the way off his slim shoulders and leaving it to pool on the floor. “All that quiet composure, but I see that look in your eye. The fear. The worry. The want.” Haru’s chest was drenched with sweat where he pressed himself flush against Yuki’s back. “I see the way you look at me, the wheels turning—“ he tapped a finger against Yuki’s temple, “—wondering what I’d taste like, what sounds I’ll make.” He nipped at an earlobe, worrying it between his teeth for a second before nosing at the downy silver hairs at the base of his neck. “Now, I don’t know what’s in me right now, but I know I _need_ to be touched, and I know you want to _do_ that, so get over yourself and let’s just both have what we want, okay?”

_No hope and no chance of salvation._

Yuki gathered enough of his thoughts together to jab his elbow back into Haru’s sternum; it wasn’t a hard hit, but it was enough to shock Haru into loosening his hold long enough for Yuki to twist out of his grip and make a run for it. At the last second, however, Haru grabbed for Yuki’s wrist, turning him back around before landing a blow square in the chest hard enough to bring Yuki breathlessly to his knees.

“I’ll be honest with you, Yun-chan,” Haru said as he stood over Yuki, casually limbering himself up. “I don’t really care whether we fuck or fight, but one of them is _going_ to happen, and I just figure you’ll have a better time getting pounded into the mattress than into the dirt.”

“I-I‘ll beat you,” Yuki gasped, trying to will the air back into his lungs.

“You won’t,” Haru said with a smirk. “You’re holding back, thinking about consequences. You don’t want to hurt poor, drugged Haru. Me? I got no such concerns.” He reached down to take Yuki’s chin in his hand hard enough to bruise. “Thoughts?”

In a flash, Haru’s legs came out from under him; his back hit the floor with a _thunk_ , skull missing the table by mere inches. Yuki panted as he straightened back up from the leg sweep, then quickly moved to straddle his cousin and pin him to the floor.

“Stay down,” he warned.

Haru must have bit into his cheek when he hit the ground: the manic grin he leveled up at Yuki was stained with blood. “Or what?”

Broad hands slid up and gripped Yuki by the hips; that hot, tight something in the pit of Yuki’s stomach dropped distinctly lower, and _tugged_.

“Gonna punish me?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Ooh, big words.”

_You’re deluding yourself._

“Shut up, shut up, _shut up_ —“ The last of Yuki’s resolve crumbled as he grabbed Hatsuharu’s face between his hands and roughly crushed their mouths together.

It wasn’t how he’d pictured it at all, kissing Hatsuharu. It was wet, messy, raw, all teeth and tongues and nails digging into flesh. Yuki fisted a hand in Haru’s sweat-soaked hair and dragged him up to sitting, using the other to tug the hem of Haru’s shirt out of his ridiculously tight trousers. Haru laughed into Yuki’s mouth with a tone that sounded like victory, only breaking the kiss to pull his shirt over his head, sending the necklaces around his neck jangling in its wake.

“Ever done this before?” He asked as he flicked open the button of Yuki’s fly.

“No,” said Yuki, running his hands over the planes of dense muscle that made up Haru’s chest. “You?”

“A couple of times, yeah.” Haru shrugged. “That bother you?”

“No,” said Yuki a little too quickly, without meeting Haru’s gaze.

Haru’s eyes lit up with a glee that bordered on cruel. “Are you jealous?” He asked.

“No!”

“You _are_ ,” gasped Haru. “Oh my god, you’re so cute—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What should I say?” Haru asked into Yuki’s neck as he sucked a neat row of bruises into delicate, pale skin. “How about ‘Don’t worry, Princess, you were always first in my heart, I swear—‘“

“Don’t patronize me, you—ngh!” Yuki was startled into silence as one of Haru’s hands dipped under the elastic of his underwear and grasped his erection with a confidence Yuki could only dream of.

Haru snickered. “Tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, okay?” Yuki didn’t respond: his ears were ringing as all his senses dropped away except the sensation of someone else’s—of _Haru’s_ —hand stroking his cock. Haru narrowed his eyes and squeezed a touch harder, twisting his wrist as he went in a way that nearly made Yuki swallow his own tongue. “ _Okay?_ ”

Yuki forced his eyes to refocus. “O-okay,” he managed.

“Good,” said Hatsuharu, and stroked a little faster.

“What do I—oh, _God_ ,” Yuki choked out, clinging to Haru’s shoulders helplessly. “I mean, what do you like?”

“Right now? _Everything_ ,” said Haru, arching into Yuki’s touch. “You do whatever you want to me and I’ll tell you if I don’t like it, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuki said again, perhaps a bit too eagerly considering how at a loss he was as to what he wanted to do, how to even start. He ran a thumb experimentally over one dark nipple and was rewarded with a low, rumbling groan from Haru. Yuki bit back a smile and did it again, rolling the hardened nub between thumb and forefinger while he let his other hand skate down Hatsuharu’s torso to clumsily fumble with his belt buckle. “These pants are the worst for this,” he observed.

“Shit, sorry,” said Haru. “Just a sec.” The hand withdrew from Yuki’s underwear as Hatsuharu slipped out from underneath him and stood up. Yuki took the opportunity to shift to kneeling and shimmy his corduroys the rest of the way off his hips while Haru peeled off his jeans, kicking them into the corner before turning back to face Yuki. “Now, where were—oh.”

Of course he wasn’t wearing underwear, the flash bastard.

Yuki was no stranger to Hatsuharu’s dick—a certain comfortability with one another’s nudity came with the territory of being a Zodiac Spirit—but all the same, it was a different matter entirely to be staring down the barrel of it, fully erect. It was much thicker than he’d expected, for one ( _like a bull’s_ , some distant part of his brain offered), and right now it was an angry shade of red, a smear of precum leaking from the tip. He ventured a glance up at Haru’s face: his eyes were wide and dark—even more than usual with how dilated his pupils were—as they stared down at Yuki with uncertainty and anticipation.

“You’re very quiet all of a sudden,” said Yuki, hint of a nervous smile twitching across his lips.

“Just enjoying the view,” said Haru. “This look suits you.”

“What, ‘thoroughly debauched’?”

“Again with the big words.”

“Shut up.”

Haru’s eyes rolled back into his head as Yuki’s hot breath hit his cock. “You don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” he said.

“Where was that sentiment ten minutes ago?” Yuki asked, leaning forward and skating his hands across Haru’s thighs.

“That was different, that was—ungh,” Hatsuharu didn’t finish whatever it was he was planning to say, stunned into silence as Yuki stuck out his tongue and calmly, almost clinically, licked Haru’s cock from the underside of the head to the bead of moisture at the tip. “Oh, fuck.”

Yuki chanced a laugh as Hatsuharu’s knees buckled beneath him, bringing him crashing down to sitting on the edge of the table. For a moment Yuki wondered if he’d managed to shock Haru back into Light, but then a hand threaded into Yuki’s hair and a deep, lowing moan with a ghost of a laugh in it that could only belong to Dark Haru followed. Yuki hummed softly in pleasure as he swirled his tongue around the head of Haru’s cock before bobbing forward and taking as much of Haru as he could into his mouth. In all likelihood this was a messy, clumsy go of things, he thought as he hollowed his cheeks and wrapped his hand around the part of Haru’s length he couldn’t fit. He was enthusiastic, though, which had to count for something, and anyway Haru seemed to be enjoying himself, hips jerking as Yuki began pumping and sucking in counterpoint.

“Stop, stop, stopstop _stopstopstop—_ “

Or perhaps not.

“No, no-no-no,” said Haru, taking hold of Yuki’s hand and pulling him up from the floor. “You’re good—fuck, you’re _so_ good. I’m just a little oversti-stimulated.”

Yuki let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. After a moment of consideration, he straddled Haru’s lap, watching the other boy shiver beneath his touch as Yuki let his fingers play up and down the sides of the other boy’s ribcage.

“Don’t want to end the party too soon,” Haru finished. He cupped a hand around Yuki’s face, tracing his thumb across his lower lip; Yuki nipped at it gently, leaning into the touch.

“Upstairs?” Yuki breathed.

Haru grinned lazily. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said, then leaned in to kiss Yuki deeply before wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting them both up to standing.

As Haru strode off without a second thought, Yuki took a moment to catch his breath and assess the damage they’d left behind. No structural damage by the look of things, which was something; there might have been a bit of a dent in the entryway beam where Haru had slammed him into it earlier, but the shoji didn’t look any worse for wear than usual. Indeed, there didn’t appear to be any physical sign of what had transpired except for the scattered clothing he dazedly began gathering up.

_You’re deluding yourself._

Yuki’s heart began pounding loudly in his ears in the otherwise silent room. All the self-consciousness he’d been steadfastly repressing hit him like a tidal wave.

They hadn’t even bothered to close the screen to the engawa: anyone could come up to the house and see him standing frozen in the middle of the room, utterly lost at sea, hair askew, flagging erection still hanging out of his briefs. There would be no mistaking what he’d been doing. What _they’d_ been doing.

The creak of Hatsuharu’s footsteps above him brought him back to reality. Yuki steeled himself, and slid the screen to the outside shut. After another moment of consideration, he removed his underwear and added it to the armful of rumpled clothes he already carried; not like they were doing him much good anymore anyhow.

The walk up the stairs seemed to take an eternity, all the while Yuki’s mind raced with possibilities and worst-case scenarios. What if someone came home and found them? What if he got to his room and Haru wasn’t interested anymore—had reverted to Light, or to the sleepy, floppy mess from before? What if he _hadn’t_ : what then? Yuki believed him before when he said they didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, or wasn’t ready for, but still, Yuki couldn’t ignore the fact that the chasm between what he wanted to be doing right now and what he _should_ be doing right now was wider than he’d want anyone to know.

But Haru had known. This Dark, drugged Haru, at least. He’d staggered into Yuki’s house and, in one swift motion, knocked the lid off the box where Yuki had been stuffing all these thoughts and desires, every aborted impulse, and now it was all spilling out until it threatened to drown him and he didn’t know how to stop it, how to put it all back.

Or if he wanted to, he thought as he finally reached his bedroom door. It was open a crack, spilling a stripe of warm golden light across Yuki’s face in the otherwise dark hall.

Last chance to be a good person, to gather up the scattered shreds of his dignity and close that box within him again.

_You’ll spend your life along a pitch-black path with no hope and no chance at salvation. Don’t ever allow yourself to think otherwise._

A low, throaty moan came from the either side of the door; the resonance of it lit Yuki’s skin up with frisson. He closed his eyes.

_You will never be saved._

He opened the door.

Hatsuharu was on the bed, already wrapped in Yuki’s sheets and writhing obscenely. He leveled a wicked grin at Yuki.

“You were thinking about backing out, weren’t you?”

“Does it matter, really?” Yuki felt a flush rise in his cheeks.

Haru reached out a hand and beckoned him forward. “Come here and let me make it worth your while.”

Yuki closed the door behind him and tossed the armful of clothes in the corner before crossing to the bed.

“What are these made of?” Haru asked, rolling his shoulders into the bedding again. “They’re _incredible_.”

Yuki blinked. “…Cotton, I guess? I’m not really sure.”

“Everything’s all…tingly. Hand me a tissue, will you?”

Yuki did so; Haru freed his arms from the bedsheets and began daintily wiping one hand off with the proffered tissue as Yuki’s gaze fell on the bottle he didn’t recognize sitting next to the tissue box on his bedside table.

“Where did you get that?” He asked.

Haru shrugged. “Sensei’s room,” he said, crumpling up the tissue and tossing it off the side of the bed. Yuki watched it tumble onto the floor for a fraction of a second before his eyes snapped back to Haru as everything clicked.

“You—?”

Haru winked. “You took a while.”

At once Yuki was hard again, painfully so; any lingering reservations in his mind wisped away like smoke. Haru’s eyes flicked to Yuki’s lap, his smile growing wider.

“Looks like I should’ve saved you the show.”

Yuki’s mouth went suddenly dry.

“You like the thought of that?” Haru asked with the tone of a man who already knows the answer to his question. “Me lying here, in your bed, touching myself, working myself open, getting myself ready for you, imagining you ins—”

Yuki couldn’t take it anymore: he threw himself at Hatsuharu, who caught him by the waist and rolled Yuki onto his back below him as they kissed furiously.

“That work for you?” Haru asked after a moment. “If you’d rather the other way around, it’s fine by me—I’m flexible.” He rolled his hips, rubbing their erections against each other to punctuate his sentence; Yuki didn’t know whether his eyes were rolling back into his head from the sensation or the terrible joke. “I just figured this way might be a less…I don’t know, ‘intimidating’ first go at it.”

Yuki stared up at Haru, swallowing hard. “No, that…that works. I’d like that,” he managed to squeak out.

Haru grinned. “Cool,” he said, then reached down and began stroking Yuki’s cock in earnest. He gestured for Yuki to hand him the lube.

“What? Oh, right.”

The blood roared in Yuki’s ears as he watched Haru prepare him, hands steady and sure. He fisted his hands in the sheets, not sure if he was trembling from fear or want. Both, maybe.

Haru raised himself up and placed Yuki’s cock in position at his entrance. He stared down at Yuki with an indulgent smile.

“Like what you see?” He said with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“ _God,_ yes,” breathed Yuki.

“Good,” said Haru, and sank down onto him.

All at once, Yuki’s brain went utterly blank, consumed by the feeling of Haru’s body against his, around his. His hands scrambled for purchase as the other boy began to ride him, finally getting hold of Haru’s thighs and gripping them hard enough to leave blue and purple handprints in the morning. He shuddered and thrust upward, trying to find a rhythm or something to do other than hold on for dear life. He needn’t have worried: Hatsuharu set a pace with confidence, snapping his hips against Yuki’s in a way that made him dizzy.

“Talk to me, Rat Boy,” Haru murmured, leaning down and nipping at the shell of Yuki’s ear. “Let me hear what’s—ah, _fuck,_ right there—rattling around in that head of yours.”

Yuki’s eyes widened. “I don’t—I can’t—”

“Come on,” said Haru, slowing his pace to a delicious, maddening crawl. “Make some noise. For me.” Little by little, he sped up the rhythm again, driving Yuki deep inside of him.

And suddenly, without warning, words began spilling out of Yuki’s mouth.

“God, _fuck,_ Haru, you’re gorgeous like this, always knew you would be but—ngh!—never thought I’d actually—huh,” he panted, “—get to see it—“

“You enjoy seeing me on top of you?” Haru grinned devilishly even as he gnawed on his lower lip in pleasure.

“Love it,” Yuki grunted, gripping Haru by the back of the neck and pressing their foreheads together. He was getting a better hang of this; they’d found a rhythm, and Yuki distantly noticed it was picking up in tempo. Haru’s breath was coming in shallow, irregular gasps. There was a long, keening moan in a voice that Yuki realized was his own.

“Want you so much,” he said. ““Watched you so long— _yes_ —want to be yours, want to belong to you—“

“Oh, you definitely do,” Haru gasped, kissing him with such ferocity it was almost a bite.

“Want to make you happy, make you feel good, make you come so hard you forget where you are—”

Yuki became dimly aware that he was practically shouting now.

“You feel so good, want you everywhere, over and over—”

Haru came with a bellow, painting Yuki’s stomach with sticky, pearly cum.

“God, I hope you forgive me, please don’t hate me, please please please—”

_You will never be saved._

As he climaxed, Yuki’s vision went white, then red, then black.

* * *

Yuki awakened to the cold blue light of early morning filtering through his bedroom window, and the sound of Uotani’s voice from downstairs.

“Yo, Prince! Haru! Wake up! Carrots is buying us breakfast!”

Something beneath him shifted, and Yuki realized he was sleeping slung over Hatsuharu’s chest, who now appeared to be stirring himself. Yuki quickly withdrew to the far side of the bed as Haru stretched and yawned. He blinked slowly as he turned to look at Yuki, still in the stupor of waking up, but his pupils appeared to be the right size again.

“Morning,” he said impassively, before rolling over and getting out of bed.

Yuki pulled the sheets up to his chin, hiding for dear life as Haru put his jeans back on; yesterday Yuki would have steadfastly ignored how low they sat on his frame, but now he couldn’t seem to stop staring at the point where his hipbones threatened to jut over the top of the waistband.

Things should be different. If they weren’t now, they would be soon. They _had_ to be, Yuki thought, but Hatsuharu made no sign of acknowledging that, for good or for ill; he just looked over his shoulder at Yuki, nodded once, and walked out the door.

Yuki was going to be sick. He froze, listening to the heavy footfalls of Haru going down the stairs.

“Jeez, would you put a shirt on?” Kyo’s voice echoed up the stairs. “This isn’t your house!”

“What happened to you?” Uo asked. “You’re covered in—what are these, scratches?”

“Got itchy,” Yuki heard Haru say. “You know, coming down.”

“Oh, shit,” said Uo. “Sorry, man. If it’s any consolation, Coppertop here’s buying us breakfast to apologize for abandoning you to get dosed—”

“I said it wasn’t my fault!”

The argument continued downstairs as Yuki dragged himself out of bed and began to numbly dress himself. He’d never been so thankful to own so many shirts with high collars, he mused as he buttoned one up over the dark bruises Haru had left on his neck. No one would ask questions about why he was so covered up. No one would have any reason to suspect anything at all.

And didn’t that relief just make him hate himself.

“Finally,” said Uo as Yuki descended the stairs. “Breakfast? Kyo’s buying.”

“Would you stop telling them that? They can buy their own damn breakfast!”

“Those aren’t the rules, Carrots,” said Uo. “The Prince here covered _your_ ass and babysat Mr. ‘I Had a Headache’ here—the least you can do is feed him.”

“I-I can pay for my own,” Yuki said, crossing his arms over himself. “It’s no trouble.”

“Oh, don’t martyr yourself, you damn Rat,” Kyo scoffed. “I’d rather pay than put up with that act.”

“I…Okay?” Yuki was only half-listening, the rest of him watching Hatsuharu, who seemed infuriatingly relaxed as he watched the argument play out. He could see what Uo had meant now: Haru’s shoulders and torso were criss-crossed with vivid red scratches that made something in Yuki’s chest clench uncomfortably.

“All right, Shirtless Wonder,” said Uo. “Go finish getting dressed.” Haru nodded wordlessly and headed back upstairs, brushing past Yuki without so much as a second glance. “Kyo, go get your wallet.” Kyo bristled at being told what to do but he assented nevertheless; unlike Haru, he did take the time to give Yuki an odd look as he left the room. “Men, I swear,” said Uo, rolling her eyes. “Thanks again for last night: how was he?”

“Fine,” said Yuki, a little too quickly.

“Didn’t give you any trouble? Sometimes things affect people in different ways; some people get feisty.”

“No,” said Yuki, staring at the doorframe. “No trouble at all.”


End file.
